Mission to Colby
by cybernaut
Summary: Another coming of age story where Joe feels the need to prove himself.
1. Mission To Colby

**Mission to Colby**

Joe sits in a bar playing cards with four other men. A saloon girl stands behind Gibbins, a rough-looking, stubbled man with a cigarette hanging from his lips, the apparent social ringleader of the group.

After a player shows his cards, Joe throws his down. "I can't help it if they butt their noses in my business," Joe said. "But don't worry. They'll be out of my hair in a few days."

"Why? Where're they going?" Gibbons said lazily, concentrating on his cards.

"Colby. Got to pick up a bank draft from the cattle drive," Joe answered.

"How come you ain't going?" Gibbons asked.

"Someone's gotta stay home and watch the fort," Joe replied.

"Ooh, big Joe Cartwright. What about your PA?" Gibbons quipped.

Everyone laughed.

The saloon girl chirped up. "Must be wonderful growing up with a rich daddy."

"Yeah. Someone to bail you out on all your losing streaks," Trevor, a card player sitting next to Gibbins, said.

Buddies laugh.

"The lily-livered coddled son of a rich old man," another card player, Lem, chimed in.

"Good one!" Trevor said.

"The spoiled rotten Cartwright punk who can get drunk on a Sarsaparilla!" another man cried.

People laugh. Joe sat with a stony expression as he took in the insults around him.

"The runt of the litter, hot-headed wolf-cub that's a half-breed to his brothers!" another roared.

Joe gets up and socks the guy. Women scream. Other guys jump into the fight. Chairs fly around.

Adam and Hoss happen to be walking past the saloon and hear the ruckus.

"You can set your clock by him," Adam commented.

A guy comes flying out of the saloon doors and tumbles into the street. He picks himself up and runs back in the saloon.

"Well, shall we get this over with?" Hoss said.

Adam put his hand up to hold back Hoss. "I got a hunch. Let's wait a while."

Sure enough, Joe comes tumbling through the saloon doors. He picks himself up and is about to run back in when Adam and Hoss block his way.

"Out of my way!" Joe cried.

"Now, little brother," Hoss began. "Pa wants to talk to you and we're not keeping him waiting."

Joe socks Hoss and gets free. He runs back into the saloon.

"Dagnab his ornery hide, the little cuss!" Hoss exclaimed rubbing his jaw. "What do you want to do?"

"Looks like this calls for an intervention," Adam replied.

They calmly enter the saloon. Raucous chaos presides.

The saloon owner approaches Adam. "Adam! That little brother of yours started this! Who's gonna pay—"

Adam sighed. "We'll take care of it."

Joe and another guy are belting each other surrounded by a crowd that's hooting and hollering. Adam and Hoss push through the crowd and get behind Joe. They wait. Joe is eventually socked right into them. They catch him and lift him up by the shoulders so his feet can't reach the floor. His feet flail. The patrons laugh.

"Let me go, let go!" Joe angrily pushed away.

"I said Pa wants to talk to you," Adam said.

Joe won't stop fighting them.

Hoss looked to Adam. "Do you want to do the honors, or shall I?"

"I think it's your turn."

Hoss socked Joe, who went down for the count.


	2. Young Man!

**Young Man!**

In front of the living room fireplace Little Joe stood before a pacing Ben as Adam sat on the backing of the settee, and Hoss comfortably settled on the seat.

In his low commanding voice Ben said, "Young man, I've had enough with this carousing of yours and staying up late every night in town."

"But Pa …" Joe interjected.

"You're wasting your life," Ben interrupted. "You let it fritter away on gambling and drinking all hours of the night. Come morning you're completely useless!"

Little Joe raised his finger to make a point, but thought better of it.

"And these damages!" Ben raved over the sheet of paper in his hand. "How do you propose to pay for this?"

"Work, work it off, Pa," Joe said weakly.

"He's already an indentured servant as it is," Adam commented.

"You bet you'll work it off," Ben said getting up his dander. "And you'll start by no more ventures into town!"

"Aw, now, wait a second there, Pa," Joe protested. "I'm too closed up here as it is."

"Joseph, I never see you anymore," Ben reasoned. "You do your chores, or rather SOME chores, and you're gone. I look in the barn and the place is abandoned. Tools aren't put away, the place isn't cleaned up."

"All the signature trademarks that Joe's been here," Adam quipped.

"I can't stay kooked up here forever, Pa!" Joe cried. "I need to get away."

"Get away!" Ben said flustered. "Carousing around town every night isn't enough of a vacation for you?"

"I don't mean that."

"Then what do you mean?"

"Well, look," Joe reasoned. "Hoss and Adam are going to Colby. How come you never send _me_ on errands like that, Pa?"

"They're picking up a $10,000 draft. That's a lot of money to entrust—"

Joe immediately turned to Hoss and Adam. "See what I mean? Did you just hear that?" He turned back to Ben. "You let them go, but you won't give it to me."

"Well, if you showed some maturity—" Ben said.

"How can I show maturity when you never give me responsibility?" Joe complained.

"What about those friends you spend time with? Two of them have prison records!"

"Pa, they did their time. You said yourself not to judge people."

"That doesn't mean you have to make them your best friends! They're too old for you, can't you see that, son? And what about those saloon girls you're always around?"

"They work at the saloon, Pa. You're not going to fault them for doing their job, are you?"

"Still. The friends you choose. I don't know what's gotten into you lately. I brought you up better than that."

"But you didn't bring me up like you did Adam and Hoss!" Joe cried. "When Adam was my age, he was in college. And when Hoss was my age, you were teaching him how to run the ranch. And now, I'm my age, and what's left for me?"

Ben considered. Joe had a point. He put his arm around his youngest son. "Well, maybe I have been a bit neglectful about doling out assignments to you. Tell you what. How about you go to Colby?"

Joe beamed. "You mean it, Pa?"

"Doggonit, Pa, we were looking forward—I mean that's always been our job!" Hoss protested.

"Oh, don't worry, big brother," Joe smiled devilishly. "I won't show you two up—too badly.

"Adam goes with you," Ben commanded.

"Aw, now Pa, he'll only hold me back," Joe protested. "I can make that run in three days by myself!"

"I always have two go," Ben intoned.

"What for? I'm faster, I'm lighter. I can make the run in record time," Joe argued.

"Joe, anything can happen," Ben said reasoned. "You could encounter Indians, thieves, your horse could throw a shoe. You know how dangerous those trails can be."

"Look, Pa, now I been thinkin'. There's way too much made of a simple errand. No one's going to be chasing someone on a fast run. Now that's the whole . . .inefficiency of these here runs, Pa. I'd like to prove it."

"Joe, you don't have to race there and back. Take your time. Enjoy your stay in town. Just get back in one piece."

"Well. I mean. It's just a suggestion."

"Alright, then it's settled," Ben said with finality. "You and Adam are going tomorrow, first thing in the morning. You better get some sleep."

"I've got that appointment with Brewster tomorrow," Adam said.

"Yeah, Adam's already got plans," Joe said quickly. "I can handle this alone."

"Go on," Ben urged Joe. "Get some shut-eye."

"Thanks, Pa!" Joe exclaimed. "You won't regret it!" Little Joe gave Adam a mock punch in the arm and ran up the upstairs.

Ben turned to Adam. "I want you to follow him. Keep an eye on him. You'll be able to catch up with him after your business with Brewster."

The next morning Hoss entered The Silver Dollar Saloon.

"Gimme a beer, Sam," Hoss said resting his hat on the bar.

Gibbons noticed Hoss. "Hey, Cartwright. Where's little brother Joe? Too afraid to show his face here again?"

The guys laughed.

"He's on an errand," Hoss replied. "He'll be back."

"Out of town, is he?" Gibbons persisted.

"I said he'll be back. That's all you need to know." Hoss finished his beer and left.

Gibbons sidled up to his buddy, Lem. "Hear that? Now where do you think our boy could be?"

"Who cares?" Lem answered taking a gulp of beer.

"Naw, don't you get it? He's probably on the mission to Colby," Gibbons said.

"He just got through saying Adam and Hoss do the run," Lem replied.

"You just saw Hoss," Gibbons pointed out. "He can't be here and there at the same time. And it's mighty coincidental that Joe's gone now."

"That don't mean nothing. You wanna lay a wager?"

"I'll do one better. I'll go up there and track him down myself."

"Why would you want to do a fool thing like that?" Lem said facing Gibbons.

"He'll be holding a Ponderosa draft. Need I say more?" Gibbons grinned.

"And just what do you think you're going to do? Rob him so he can come back here and sic the sheriff on you?"

"Not if one of us comes back."

"What're you driving at?"

"I unload Cartwright of his booty and start a new life elsewhere. He comes back here alone. But . . ."

"But what?"

"But if that snot-nosed kid gives me any trouble, I'll put him in his place real quick and it'll be six-foot under. Then I'll be the one coming back."

"You mess with him and the Cartwrights'll be on you like hornets. Ain't you forgetting about Big Brother Adam? He'll probably be with him."

"I ran into Amos Brewster yesterday. He's getting together with Adam to do a livestock trade today. What do you think of that?"

Lem considered. "I'd say that makes Little Joe a sitting duck, don't it?"


	3. Heading Out

**Heading Out**

Ben sat before his desk studying some documents when Hoss and Adam entered the house. "How'd it go with Brewster?" Ben greeted.

"I'd say we came out about even," Adam replied. "This year he drove a pretty hard bargain."

"That's 'cause he's taking tips from you," Hoss replied.

"Well, I'll take even," Ben replied. He noticed Hoss looked troubled. "Something wrong?"

Hoss sat on the corner of the desk. "Pa, I don't know about those friends of Little Joe. They sure don't act like his friends."

"What do you mean?" Ben asked.

"First they're sneering, then they're snarlin'. Always making fun of him."

"You know how people tease."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say they were downright hostile. I don't know what he sees in them."

"He's still an impressionable young man. Easily influenced by the people he looks up to."

Well, I wish he'd look up to somebody else instead of the likes of a polecat like Gibbons."

"Give it a while," Adam chipped in. "They beat on him enough, his judgment will kick in."

Making his way at an easy gallop Joe heard another horse's hoofs clopping along the trail. He stopped his horse and looked back. In the distance he spotted another rider. Joe squinted. Then he headed out to meet the horseman. "Clay, what are you doing here?"

"Got relatives up in Colby, Cartwright," a dusty Gibbons replied approaching Joe. "Your brother Hoss told me you were going up this way, so I figured I'd come by. Maybe even run into you. Figured we could make the trip together."

"Yeah, well you're in luck. If my horse didn't throw a shoe I would have been miles from here," Joe replied.

"Come across a way station, did ya?" Gibbons said.

"Yeah, got it all taken care of. Listen, Clay, nice of you to look me up and all, but I was thinking of making this trip in record time. Another person just slows me down."

"Cartwright, are you crazy? You got an opportunity to enjoy the nightlife in Colby and all you can think about is beating a dusty trail?"

"Well, the idea was—"

"Forget it!" Gibbons exclaimed. "There's plenty of women in town who want nothing better than to shower us with attention while we drink and play poker. It's a time to kick up your heels and have some fun, boy! Your brothers won't be there to drag you away when things get nasty."

"You know something? You make a lot of sense. Come on, I could use the company."

"You know you're gonna be late getting' back," Gibbons pointed out. "Some people might come lookin' for you."

"That just occurred to me," Joe said thoughtfully. "I'll wire my pa about the change in plans once we get in town."

"You're not going to mention me, are you?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. I got the feeling Hoss didn't take too kindly to my hanging around with you."

"Don't worry. I'm not so sure my pa would be too keen on it either."

Coming to a fork in the road, Joe motioned to stop. "Whoa. Let's head that way."

"Why?" Gibbons said impatiently. "It'll be two more hours of sitting in this hot sun."

"There's a sacred Indian burial ground up that way. Indians post guards."

"That never stopped me. They put kids there, they're harmless. I've gone through it many times."

"Just the same. I don't want any trouble with them."

"Well, you can do what you want, chicken. I'll meet up with you in a few hours with a cold beer at Logan's station."

"Suit yourself," Joe shrugged and took off at a gallop

Hours later, dirty and sweating, Joe walked up on his horse to the three building horse town in the middle of the desert. He wearily got off his horse and tied him to a post. Then turned to see Gibbons sitting in front of a café house at an umbrella table with a beer in his hand. "Well, Clay, looks like you made good time," Joe said squinting one eye in the hot sun.

"Told you, Cartwright. Just been passing the time waiting for you," Gibbons said lazily.

"You run into anybody?"

"You mean them Injuns? Just one of them kids, like I told you. He comes out from under a rock threatening me with a bow and arrow. I chased him away in no time flat. Damn near got him."

"You took a shot at him?" Joe said incredulously.

"What'd ya think made him turn around and run? Hey, he was threatening my life."

"I thought you said it was no trouble passing through."

"It ain't. As long as you know how to handle yourself."

That night they camped out. Munching on beans, they sat before a warm fire in the cool night air.

"Did you really break out of prison?" Joe asked, shoveling in another mouthful.

"Masterminded the whole operation myself," Gibbons answered. "Would've gotten away, too, if it weren't for an off-duty guard. Earned me another five months' time.

"How much time did you have left?" Joe asked.

"Three months."

"Three months? Now wouldn't it have made more sense just to do the time?"

"Hey, I stood to do no time if I got away. It was just a touch of bad luck." Gibbons gathered the remaining beans on his fork. "You shouldn't be such a goody-goody, Cartwright. Go out there and do something daring. You shoulda went with me through the Injun cemetary."

The next day they arrived at Colby.

"I could sure use a cold beer," Gibbons said taking off his hat and wiping the sweat from his forehead with his forearm. "Come on, I'll show you the Silver Star. The best watering hole in this town."

"I got business to attend to, Clay. I'll meet up with you later," Joe said removing his saddle bag and throwing it over his shoulder. "Hey, which way's the bank?"

"Over yonder," Gibbons pointed. "The Silver Star. See you later."

I won't be long," Joe smiled as he took off toward the bank.

"Take your time, Cartwright," Gibbons said under his breath. "I ain't going nowhere."

Putting the money in his inside jacket pocket, Joe stepped out of the bank to the hot dry air of the afternoon. He headed to the saloon. Once inside, he panned the area to spot Gibbons in a card game. "Barkeep, give me a beer."

From the card table, Gibbons turned to see Joe. "Hey, Joe, can you spot me a hundred? I'll just win it off you back when we get back home."

"I'd like to see you try," Joe said reaching into his jacket and pulling out his wallet. He pulled out a slew of bills and dropped them on the table.

"Come on and join us. We could use another player."

"Thanks, but I could use a bath more. I'll come join you when the place gets jumping."

"You got a few hours yet. Where're you staying?"

"The Colby Hotel up the street. You're welcome to stop by if you need a place to bunk. It's room 105."

"Sure thing, Cartwright. Just don't go throwing out the drunk that comes pounding on your door in the wee hours of the morning"

"Same goes here," Joe winked. He took a last swallow of his beer and headed for the hotel.

Gibbons motioned to a nearby saloon girl. "Gertie, he's staying at the Colby Motel, room 105. Should be easy, he'll be taking a bath. Anything goes wrong, work your magic."


	4. Confrontation

**Confrontation **

Joe settled tiredly in the circular tub in the middle of the room. A hotel employee, Henry, carrying a pail of hot water in each hand, knocked on the door and entered.

"More water, Mister," Henry announced placing the pails on the floor.

"I don't think I'm ever getting out of this tub," Joe said, easing forward to allow Henry to pour the water.

"Enjoy while it's hot," Henry quipped. "Got one more trip."

Gertie, the saloon girl, peered down the hallway. As Henry left the room with his empty pails, she backed off out of sight.

When Henry returned with pails of fresh hot water, Gertie stepped up. "I'll take it from here, hon," she said relieving Henry of one of the pails. "He sent for me."

"Good enough," Henry said putting the other one down. "Call me if you need any help."

"Will do," Gertie said and waited until Henry was out of sight.

Ever so silently, Gertie turned the doorknob and peaked in. Joe's back was toward her. His saddlebags and jacket were thrown carelessly on the bed. His clothes were thrown on a chair by a desk, out of his reach. She stealthily made her way toward the bed. The floor creaked.

"That you, Henry?" Joe said looking back. "… Ma-- Ma'am?"

Caught, she immediately assumed an air of cool. "This 105?"

"Yes," Joe stared at her.

"Then I'm in the right place!" she made her way in the room. She studied him. "Why you're nothing but a pup."

"Who are you?"

"Sent over as a present. To give you a proper Colby welcome." She came closer.

"Ma'am, now you're going to have to leave," Joe said grabbing his hat on the floor and putting it in front of him in the middle of the tub.

"What's the matter, Lambchops. Hiding something I never seen before?" She circled the tub. "Not too experienced in these matters, are you?"

"I—I'm experienced enough," Joe stuttered as he pivoted in the tub to follow her. He looked at his clothes on the chair. Too far away. She noticed him look.

"You're not going anywhere, are you now?" Gertie reached in the tub and splashed water in Joe's face.

"Uh!" As Joe rubbed his eyes, she made for the bed and gathered his things. "I need a towel! This stuff burns," he yelled.

"Sure thing, Babykins." She absentmindedly threw the towel at Joe's head. As soon as she did, she realized it was a mistake. She made a dash for the door. She was halfway out the door when her arm was jerked back.

"I believe those are mine, ma'am," Joe said with a firm grip on her, towel in front of him, dripping wet.

"Just having some fun," she said faking indignation. "Let go, you big clod, you're hurting me!"

Joe released her. "Suppose you tell—"

She ran off.

In the Silver Star Saloon, Joe walked up to Gibbons. Seeing his torso, Gibbons eyes rose to meet Joe's face. "Hey, partner. Care to join us?"

"No, I'm heading out."

"What'dya mean, you just got here!"

"I had a visitor."

"Yeah, I heard. The welcoming committee."

"What do you know about it?"

"They do it to everyone. Sort of a rites of passage to new people here. She was just having fun with you, that's all."

"She was out to rob me."

"She was not! Don't be such a spoiled sport. Can't you take a joke?"

Joe looked up. "That's her!"

Gertie passed through a door to another room in the bar. Joe ran to the door, but when he opened it, she was long gone. He looked back and forth, and then retreated back to the bar.

Keeping his eyes glued on his card, Gibbons hadn't budged.

"You know who she is?" Joe asked, returning.

"They all look alike to me," Gibbons said dismissively.

"Barkeep!" Joe said turning around. "Who was that saloon girl?"

"Who wants to know?" the bartender replied keeping his eyes on the beer mug he was wiping.

He wasn't going to be of any help, Joe decided. He looked doubtfully at Gibbons. They all stick together. "Nice. No one knows nothin'. Well, this place is a little too rich for my blood," he said starting to retreat.

"Hey, where're you going? What about the nightlife?" Gibbons looked up surprised.

"I don't feel safe here."

"Look, you're already here, no point in leaving now. Why don't you just hang around here until tonight? Believe me, you'll change your mind when you see the floor show."

The card players nudged each other and laughed as if it was an inside joke.

"Go on, you're probably just tired," Gibbons cajoled. "Get some zzz's. Come back tonight, and if you still want to go, we'll go."

"There's no reason for you to come with me. Thought you were visiting relatives."

"Hey, I got all the relatives I need here."

"All right. Just be ready," Joe said about to take off.

"Oh, and Joe," Gibbons said not looking up from his cards.

Joe stopped.

Gibbons continued. "Hate to bring this up, but I'm a little short. Would you mind? I'll settle up with you when we get back."

Joe withdrew his wallet and counted out another hundred dollars. Gibbons could see a wad of money tucked away on the inside of his benefactor's jacket.

That night, Joe walked up to the saloon doors of the Silver Star and looked around. The place was noisy and boisterous. The first thing Joe noticed was a cowboy with a saloon girl thrown over his shoulder heading up the stairs and yelling YEE-HA! Joe turned to see saloon girls on the stage doing the can-can, something he had never seen before. Bare legs flying up in unison, the girls joyously whooped it up as men crowded to the front. The piano player ducked just in time as a bottle came hurling his way, but he never missed a beat as he frantically pounded the keyboard.

A midget of a man walked from table to table grabbing shot glasses from unsuspecting drinkers, and if the drinker still wasn't looking after he gulped it down, he'd put the glass back. One man caught the midget red-handed and threw him into another table, toppling it over, and causing the occupants to rise and pull up their sleeves. Several men watched in another corner, elbowing each other and laughing, occasionally passing money between them from on-going bets.

A man grabbed a saloon girl from the table of another man and started roughly dancing with her. The other guy pulled him away and socked him. Surrounding tables pushed or kicked the fighting men away every time one of them fell into a table. Joe looked around the bar as an occasional bottle or chair hurled through the air. So this is what Hoss and Adam looked forward to when they came to Colby. Well, he might have been interested in the raucous environment earlier. Now he was spooked and just wanted to get out.

As if he was fused to his seat Gibbons hadn't moved from the table, playing cards with the same four card players. From the paucity of coins, he was apparently on the losing end. Joe got himself a beer and walked over.

"Pack it up, we gotta get movin'," Joe said curtly.

Gibbons looked up. "Hey, Joe, there you are. Can you spot me a hundred? Just 'til we get back to Virginia City?"

Joe tried to control his anger and said steadily, "No time. I'm leaving now."

"I can't stop in the middle of a hand! Come on, I can't make this ante."

"You don't need money to fold."

"But I'm in the hole with these guys."

"That's their loss."

"What're ya, making me out to be a liar? I told 'em you were good for it. Come on, it's chicken scratch compared to what you got on you."

Joe grabbed Gibbons roughly by the collar and lifted him from his seat. "Now I'm telling you one more time, it's time to get going," he said evenly. "I'm going to pay this tab and then get on my horse. I expect you to be on yours if you're coming back with me." Joe threw him back in his chair and headed toward the bar.

Gibbons scowled. "Why you—" Suddenly realizing he had to keep in Joe's good graces, he changed his tune. "Hey. Hey, wait up, I'm going with you!"

Joe was out the door when one of the card players with a match between his teeth blocked Gibbons' path. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"I'll get the money, but I gotta get it from him," Gibbons said hurriedly.

The man towered over Gibbons as he grabbed him by the shirt. "I'll save you the trouble. He ain't givin' it to ya. And you're not goin' nowhere. Not without a horse."

"Oh, no. I need my horse."

"You need to pay your debts more, hombre," the cowboy said dryly. "It's mine now."

"Listen. He's got a boatload of cash on him—in the thousands. You saw him hand me a hundred without so much as batting an eye. Wait until we're out of town. It's the easiest cash you'll ever make and it's yours for the stealing."

The cowboy thought a moment. "Ride slow." He released Gibbons and stepped aside to let him pass.

Gibbons hastened through the saloon doors. Little Joe was just pulling out.

"Wait! Cartwright! Hold up! I'm coming with you!"

Camped out before a small fire, Gibbons ladled another helping of beans on his tin plate.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you, Clay?" Joe said sarcastically as he poked at the fire with a branch.

"You accusing me of something, Cartwright? I told you, I was in the bar all the time." Gibbons took a flask from his pocket and screwed off the top. He took a gulp. "How would I know who she was?"

"I don't know, maybe one of your "relatives."

"I don't like the way you been talking to me, boy," Gibbons grumbled. "Seems like you've lost all respect for your elders."

"Not all elders, just you," Joe shot back. "Ever since we got on this trip, you've been nothing but trouble. Poker, liquor, women."

"Thought you liked that, Joe," Gibbons said putting a flask to his lips.

"To a point! There comes a time to get down to business. Do you think you can stop that for one minute?" Joe slapped the bottle away from Gibbons. It smashed noisily on a rock.

"You're not my nursemaid," Gibbons said going for his gun. But Joe was faster.

"Drop it," Joe said springing up, a flash of a gun suddenly pointing at Gibbons.

In a placating tone, Gibbons said. "Come on, Joe. Let's forget it."

"Over there," Joe waved his gun. Gibbons relented and tossed the gun to the side. Joe reached down and picked it up.

"Hey, this is where we part company. Give me back my gun." Gibbons demanded.

"I'm not going to be looking over my shoulder wondering what you're up to. You'll get this back when we reach Virginia City." Joe tucked the gun in his belt. "Now get some sleep, we've got an early start tomorrow."

"Sure, Joe," Gibbons said ominously. "We'll do this your way. Boss."

Joe didn't know what to do with Gibbons. He didn't trust him, but couldn't very well tie him up. All Gibbons had to do was attack him in his sleep and grab a gun. Joe emptied the bullets from both guns. Given the choice, he would rather rely on his fists than a gun.

In the silence of the night Joe woke up to the sound of a branch crackle. He caught Gibbons rummaging through his bedroll and locating a knife. Springing to his feet Joe flew into Gibbons in a surprise attack. Under the light of a full moon, a fistfight ensued as they wrestled in the dirt over the knife. In no time, Joe overpowered Gibbons and whacked the man's fist to the ground until he released the knife. Then he gave Gibbons a good sock, landing him in a heap. As Joe went to pick up the knife, Gibbons kicked him in the back.

"Oaf," Joe grunted doubled on the ground.

Gibbons kicked him again for good measure. He was going to kick him again, when Joe grabbed his foot and pulled his leg out from under him. Gibbons threw dirt in Joe's eyes. As Joe rubbed his eyes, Gibbons dove for Joe's bedroll and grabbed a gun. He pointed it at his adversary and pulled the trigger. To Gibbon's surprise the gun clicked empty. Joe rushed Gibbons, but Gibbons managed to sidestep and whacked Joe on the head with the gun. Joe crumpled to the ground. Gibbons busied himself grabbing the saddlebags and food. One of Gibbon's last acts was to untie Joe's horse, Cochise, and slap his haunches, causing the horse to gallop off. Gibbons got on his horse and took off.

It was morning. Joe woke up to a throbbing headache. He rose to a kneel position and looked around, squinting and rubbing his head. Suddenly he felt his jacket pockets. It was gone. He groaned.

Joe surveyed the camp. His horse was gone, too. No food, no water, no horse. He was stranded. He sat on a nearby rock and put his head between his hands. "I'm such a fool."


End file.
